


A Little Bit Lady and the Tramp

by chibistarlyte



Series: The Awesome Things prompt series [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, outside pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:50:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibistarlyte/pseuds/chibistarlyte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Angelo looked up to wave at them through the window, something amazing happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Bit Lady and the Tramp

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while on a two-hour flight delay. This is just one of many fics in the "Awesome Things" prompt series. My friend Bee and I decided to challenge each other by choosing prompts from a book written by the creator of the 1000 Awesome Things blog. 
> 
> Prompt for this fic: waiters and waitresses who bring free refills without asking
> 
> As of now, this is unbeta'd. It will be beta'd when my amazing beta Aki isn't drowning in schoolwork.

Angelo always saved his best white wine for his favourite patrons.

He also liked to save their favourite table for them, the one by the door, with two glasses of wine already waiting for them to arrive.

Almost like clockwork, Sherlock and John came through the door. They spent a moment looking for Angelo until they caught sight of him. With a huge smile on his face, he gave them a nod—affirmation that their table was indeed ready for them. The older Italian man watched as the pair slid into their seats and each gave him a thumbs-up. Their usual tonight, then. John and Sherlock rarely chose a meal other than fettuccine and lasagna, respectively. Angelo gave them a thumbs-up in return and headed for the kitchen to personally prepare their dinners.

When he emerged from the kitchen sometime later, two plates of exquisite pasta in hand, he was greeted with the sight of his boys laughing hysterically with one another. Their joy was contagious, it seemed, for Angelo couldn’t help the smile that broke out over his own face. He’d known Sherlock for a long time, and he’d never seen the man so happy. So jovial and carefree. It was amazing how much John’s positive influence had initiated such a fundamental change in Sherlock.

On his way to their table, he grabbed the bottle of white wine he’d opened just for them.

“Here you are, gents,” Angelo announced, setting the steaming hot plates in front of them. Once his hands were free, he took the liberty of refilling their empty glasses.

“Ta,” John said, raising his glass to Angelo in thanks before swishing it around and taking a sip. “Amazing as always.”

“Thank you, Angelo,” Sherlock said in his normally polite manner. Stiff though his words sounded, the man himself was very relaxed and content. The wine had already tinged his cheeks pink.

“You let me know if you need anything else,” Angelo told them as he took his leave. The two men nodded and tucked into their meals, John with a bit more gusto than Sherlock. Still, it was nice to see Sherlock eat something for once. Angelo was used to them coming in for a quick bite and sometimes a stakeout in the middle of a case, during which Sherlock outright would refuse food of any kind. This was just a casual sit-down dinner, though; he noticed that these were happening with increasing frequency as of late. Curious.

Angelo kept a good eye on his boys the entire time, going and refilling their wine glasses the second they emptied and bringing them some fresh breadsticks to accompany their meal. To his delight, he even managed to sneak a candle onto their table without trouble. Even Sherlock was none the wiser. He laughed when he witnessed Sherlock push aside his half-eaten lasagna in favour of picking at John’s fettuccine. John rolled his eyes but smiled anyway, sliding the plate between them to allow Sherlock better access. And if he snatched a bite or two of lasagna, well, Sherlock didn’t seem to care.

Several hours and many refills later, Angelo poured the last drops of wine into Sherlock’s glass.

“Shall I pop open another bottle for you two?” he asked with a knowing smile, waving the empty bottle in a playful manner.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Sherlock replied with a slight slur in his speech. “We should be going, actually.”

John nodded his assent. “Right. But thank you, Angelo. You’re the best.” He flashed a pleased grin and finished off the rest of his wine.

Clearing their table of used dishware, Angelo bid them both good night and set to work cleaning up the restaurant for closing time.

Despite their claim of leaving, Sherlock and John still stayed behind a while longer. Their laughter echoed throughout the steadily emptying restaurant. A few times, Angelo chuckled along to himself while wiping down tables and stacking chairs. Every once and a while, he could hear them all the way back in the kitchen. He just kept shaking his head; they could be so bloody obvious sometimes, even Sherlock. Why couldn’t they see for themselves what Angelo saw so clearly every time they came in?

He was out by the tables again when he heard the scraping of Sherlock’s chair on the floor. Ah, so they were finally leaving. And here Angelo thought he’d actually have to kick them out so he could lock up for the night. He responded in kind to their calls of thank you and wishing him a good night. He heard their footsteps stumble a bit and their giggles were unrestrained. The chime on the door rang and everything went quiet. When Angelo looked up to wave at them through the window, something amazing happened.

John was on his toes, hands cupping Sherlock’s face and his left thumb caressing a flushed, defined cheekbone. Sherlock had his arms securely hooked around John’s waist and seemed to be supporting the majority of the shorter man’s weight. And they were kissing. Full stop, out of breath, honest to god kissing.

“About time,” Angelo smiled to himself as he blew out the candle on their table. He ought to get some more, because form the looks of it, he was going to be needing them. He resisted the urge to sing out some sappy Italian love song and just hummed quietly, watching through the window as Sherlock and John headed off down the street, arm in arm and pressed into each other’s sides, towards home.

Together.


End file.
